


we were good at faking forever

by anamoon



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Alternate title: how to gain a guy in 10 days, Except he doesn't know it's fake, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-07-31 15:15:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20117179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anamoon/pseuds/anamoon
Summary: David Santiago has super powers. No matter how much effort Amy gives to everything she does, he always manages to beat her tenfold, including obtaining the girlfriend of his parents’ dream. With ten days until her brother Miguel’s wedding and no date, Amy has no choice but to convince the next person she sees to fall madly in love with her.





	1. # DAY 1 - THURSDAY #

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fruitwhirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fruitwhirl/gifts).

> written for fruitwhirl/dmigod on tumblr as part of the b99 fandom events exchange!
> 
> this wasn't originally intended as a multichap—or intended to ever exceed like 3k—but things happened and now i'm 5k words in with no end in sight and the deadline is today, so... multichap. because it's mostly written, the updates should be daily, tho!
> 
> you can find me at @johnnydora on tumblr.

All morning, Rosa has been avoiding the signs of Amy’s distress. It began with the pen tapping and foot stomping right as she clocked in, which was barely tolerable with a cup of coffee. Then she’d narrowly escaped Amy’s overenthusiastic attempt at getting lunch together by barring herself in the hall closet and banging her head against the wall. But when she enters the ladies’ restroom just as Amy has turned all the taps on and begun to scream, Rosa knows there’s no escaping the inevitable.  
  
Amy cuts out as soon the door shuts behind Rosa, hands springing to turn off the faucets and hide all evidence. She squeaks. “Oh, hi, Rosa! I was just—”  
  
Leaning back against the restroom door and locking it, Rosa silences her with a raised brow.  
  
“Spill, Santiago.”  
  
She shuts off the last tap, the hollow sound of a nearly empty public restroom surrounding them.   
  
“It’s nothing. I broke up with my boyfriend.”  
  
“Tom, right?”  
  
“Teddy.”  
  
Rosa nods for her to continue, folding her arms and ignoring the hesitant knock outside the restroom door.  
  
“He was okay,” she continues, “but we… had schedule conflicts. He wasn’t available next Saturday.”  
  
“That’s it?”  
  
Amy sighs. “It’s my brother’s wedding, and it normally wouldn’t bother me, but David has been singing nothing but praise for his new girlfriend, and if I show up alone next to _that_ in front of my parents, I’ll never be their favourite!”  
  
Her voice starts to rise in pitch, and Rosa starts regretting locking herself in here with essentially a ticking bomb. She tries to sneakily uncross her arms to escape, but Amy’s turns those big, pleading eyes on her, locking Rosa in place.  
  
“I have ten days to find someone _remotely_ as ‘awesome’ as ‘part-time astrophysicist, part-time raising money to help homeless children in Southeast Asia’ _Melanie._ Please, Rosa, _please_ help me get a date to show up that _asshole_ and his girlfriend. I can’t get demoted to a place on the staircase. Please.”  
  
“Fine,” Rosa agrees, barely understanding half of Amy’s words and hoping it’ll end this moment faster. “Yes, I’ll help.”  
  
She regrets it immediately when tears blossom in the other woman’s eyes. Amy looks away from her, fixing herself up in the mirror. By the time she turns back to Rosa to discuss plans, the bathroom door is swinging closed from her quick retreat.  
  
They end up at a bar called Shaw’s at Rosa’s insistence this part of the city has better looking guys. As Rosa orders two drinks, Amy picks at the napkin in front of her. Could she skip the wedding entirely? Claim a terrible, rare illness? Maybe a new case will come in tomorrow that will require her to go undercover for years without any contact from her family. That would be nice.  
  
“God, just pick a guy.” Amy jolts back to the bustle of the bar, Rosa’s eyes on her. “It isn’t that hard.”  
  
“It can’t be just _any guy._ My family will see right through me.”  
  
Rosa studies her, then looks around the bar. She points her beer towards one man in a booth at the back, tipping his head back laughing. “That one doesn’t look bad.”  
  
“What? No. Rosa, I need the perfect date. _The_ date. The love of my life. The man of my parents’ dreams.”  
  
“You’ve got ten days, don’t you?”  
  
Amy leans back to get a better look at the guy Rosa selected for her. He’s actually pretty attractive, and she’s just tipsy enough to imagine exactly what her friend’s suggesting. Sitting next to him at that booth, running her hands through his hair, receiving the goofy smile he already seems to constantly wear. He’s talking animately to the other people at his booth, and happens to catch her eye. She turns away quickly, barely catching the wink he sends her way.  
  
Sighing, she says, “I can’t manipulate someone into being what I want.”  
  
“Sure you can. It’s easy.” Rosa knocks her glass on the bar, catching Charles’ attention, who was dragged along simply because they couldn’t ignore him when he walked into the break room during the middle of their planning. “Hey, just order a beer, sit down, and lose the neck tie. You look like an idiot.”  
  
Nodding, Charles follows her directions, sitting on Amy’s other side. “Genevieve didn’t think it was working for me either. That’s what I get for trying something new. Thanks, Rosa!”  
  
Amy catches Rosa smirking at her and looks to the ceiling, possibly hoping for one last sign from God that she’s about to fuck up her life. Nothing.   
  
“Fine. Get me two shots. I’m going in.”  
  
It turns out she doesn’t have to. As soon as the shots arrive and she downs them, much to Rosa’s delight, she steps off her stool and directly into the man she’d intended to go to. He catches her around the arms, and she looks up into his eyes right as the alcohol drops in her stomach. He’s even prettier up close.  
  
“In a hurry?” he asks her, giving her that cheeky smile she spied earlier.  
  
“No.” He hasn’t let her go yet. “I’m all right here.”  
  
“Can I join you?”  
  
She looks back, about to ask Rosa permission to ditch her, but she, along with Charles, is nowhere to be found. So Amy gestures to the stool next to where she had been sitting, and settles back down.  
  
His name is Jake, and despite the fact that he makes Amy’s stomach knot every time he looks into her eyes, he’s pretty much the last person she’d ever consider dating. Including Charles. It hasn’t been ten minutes, and he’s already spilled his drink twice, used his shirt as a napkin, and worst of all, seemed to think that reading fifteen books was a decent accomplishment. She keeps up with him only because, as per another sneaky glance around the bar, there doesn’t seem to be any other options.  
  
There are the occasional pros, as well. He’s a cop as well, and they have a brief competition over who’s had the best case. Her laughter is genuine then, despite losing rather terribly—nothing ever happens in the 82nd precinct. And it might just be the drinks, but every time he brushes her arm, Amy’s heart leaps. It’s nice to feel the rush of dating again, after all.   
  
There’s a lingering voice in her head telling her to get out, though. Go home, watch some jeopardy reruns. But it’s overtaken by the thought of Rosa’s sighing and the ever-echoing disappointment on her mother’s face. Just ten days. She could do ten days.  
  
“I should get going now,” she says, once the night has gotten old.   
  
He jumps up with her. “Oh, yeah, me too. Uh. I’ll walk you out?”  
  
A part of her hopes that will be it, that they’ll part ways after a surprisingly decent night and never cross paths again. But he hesitates as they arrive at the sidewalk, Amy searching past him for a cab, and that nagging feeling washes over her again.  
  
“Can I see you again?” he asks.  
  
Ten days, she reminds herself. She looked back up at him, his eyes soft and a little glazed from the drinks, his hair needing a proper brush through it. It could be a lot worse.   
  
“Yeah.”


	2. # DAY 2 - FRIDAY #

He texts her immediately the next morning, accompanied with a terribly dark selfie of him lying in bed, the covers pulled up to his neck.  
  
**(917) 474 1495 @ 7:49 am**  
> good mrninggg  
  
Amy doesn’t open it until she’s sitting at her desk, ready to start her day. With a stack of case files neatly squared away in the corner and her new highlighter sitting with her pens, she allows herself the moment to check her phone. His message, now a few minutes old, makes her check her watch and compare it to the time on the computer monitor.  
  
**Amy @ 7:55 am**  
> I thought you had work today?  
  
**(917) 474 1495 @ 7:55 am**  
> not for 5 minz  
  
“Is that him?” Rosa rolls her chair over, propping her head on Amy’s shoulder to look down at the phone. She swipes up to his photo and snorts. “Nice catch, Amy.”  
  
“I know. Can you believe it? He’s going to be so late!”  
  
Rosa leans back enough to give her a look. “So? You can’t dump him yet.” She grins then, eyes teasing. “Besides, he’s kind of cute.”  
  
She looks back down at her phone as Rosa rolls back to her desk with a guffaw, examining his sleepy photo. There is, she supposes, something endearing about being the first person he thought of when he woke up, even if he’s atrociously tardy and in great need of a dictionary.  
  
**Amy @ 7:59 am**  
> Your boss must hate you.  
  
**(917) 474 1495 @ 7:59 am**  
> nah me n holt are broz  
  
**Amy @ 8:00 am**  
> Wait, Raymond Holt is your captain?  
  
**(917) 474 1495 @ 8:00 am**  
> do u kno him??  
  
As a future police captain—or so she hopes—she has a list of suitable mentors. Raymond Holt, first openly gay, African-American captain in the state of New York, is at the top her list. Not to mention his mother Laverne, and it’s making her sweat just thinking about how she now knows someone who knows someone who knows her.  
  
She considers playing it cool, acutely aware that her flirting skills are not up to par, but her hands have already typed out a message without her permission.  
  
**Amy @ 8:01 am**  
> He’s only my idol.

**(917) 474 1495 @ 8:02 am**  
> in tht case i have hella stories to tell u  
  
**(917) 474 1495 @ 8:02 am**  
> mayb we cuold get dinner?  
  
**(917) 474 1495 @ 8:02 am**  
> how do u feel bout cheap chinese food  
  
**Amy @ 8:03 am**  
> Does it have to be cheap?  
  
**(917) 474 1495 @ 8:03 am**  
> thats da best kind!  
  
**Amy @ 8:03 am**  
> I’ll take your word for it.  
  
**(917) 474 1495 @ 8:04 am**  
> han dynasty? 2night?  
  
The sensible part of Amy hesitates. She’s never gone on a second date so soon—that is, if a few hours of drinking and questionable flirting counts as a date. But that’s the point, she reminds herself. By the wedding, he needs to be a Good Boyfriend to impress her family and destroy David’s livelihood, and that’s going to require some fast acting. Right?  
  
“Rosa?”  
  
“What?” she shouts back from her desk.  
  
“Should I go out with him tonight?”  
  
Her response comes without hesitation, without any of Amy’s anxieties. “Sure. You coming to the briefing?”  
  
Startled, Amy’s eyes jump to he watch, surprised to see the work day has started and that she’s spent her first couple of minutes texting of all things. She curses herself, shuts off her phone, and leaves it on her desk as she follows the rest of the detectives into the briefing room. Charles sidles up to her and chats about Nikolaj, providing enough distraction for her to switch into detective mode, leaving Jake far away from her brain.  
  
**(917) 474 1495 @ 8:11 am**  
> i mean is fine if u dont want 2  
  
There’s a message from him when she gets back to her desk, and she stares it for a second too long, the case file she’d been grabbing for forgotten. His concern brings a smile to her face, not for the first time realising that out of all of the people in New York, perhaps she’s not stuck with the worst one.  
  
**Amy @ 8:37 am**  
> I could pencil you in. 7PM?  
  
She’s reaching for the file again when something else nags at her mind. After quickly adding something into her phone, she turns it off again, and stows it away in her drawer for safe measure.  
  
**Jake @ 8:39 am**  
> 7 it is  
  
**Jake @ 8:39 am**  
> c u there amy  
  
Truthfully, she doesn’t think about Jake for the rest of the day. Charles gets a lead on the string of robberies that’s had them stumped all week, and Amy spends the afternoon in the interrogation room with the culprit.  
  
It isn’t until she’s sliding off her shoes that she remembers the conversation that her mind has purposefully been hiding far, far into the depths of her consciousness. Going off of the reminder she set on her phone, she has two hours to get ready for their date.  
  
Amy paces around her bedroom for so long she’s nearly late and has to shove her lipstick in her purse and hope that she has time to apply it before she arrives. Not that she arrives past the time they agreed to meet—but she’s only ten minutes early instead of her usual fifteen. Fortunately, she’s fairly certain that punctuality is not one of Jake’s traits.  
  
He stumbles in at a quarter past seven, which is honestly better than she expected, though she makes a mental note to start rushing him out of the door early next Saturday for the wedding. If he agrees to go, that is. But Amy’s done the math, and she’s decided the approximate third date, depending on how you count, is not the appropriate time to ask. She does have an emergency list of questions on her phone that she tried to memorise, though, just in case.  
  
“Hi,” he greets.  
  
“Hey.”  
  
“I brought you something.”  
  
She flounders, unsure how to react to that, as he takes the seat across from her and pulls something from his pocket.  
  
“A… pen?” She takes it hesitantly from his hands, more questions filling her mind.  
  
“From Holt’s desk.” Jake grins.  
  
The simple ballpoint pen transforms before her eyes, and she strokes a finger along it, mesmerised by thousands of cases it’s probably signed off on.  
  
“You won’t turn me in, will you?” he asks.  
  
“Hm, not as long as you keep bringing me gifts.”  
  
That makes him laugh, and she smiles despite herself. It’s ridiculous, because she’s only flirting with him to secure a date, but the glint in his eyes every time he looks at her always makes her heart flutter.  
  
“What kind of music do you listen to?” she asks, hoping that reverting back to her emergency questions will keep any more strange feelings at bay.  
  
“Huh? I don’t know. Uh, Taylor Swift.”  
  
“Cool!” She hesitates, trying to formulate her next question. She doubts he’s heard of most of her parents’ favourite Cuban artists, and David only listens to weird European instrumentals that no one with ears would be caught dead listening to, in her correct opinion. Then she remembers an old soft spot of her mother’s, guaranteed to make her fawn over Jake if he brings it up. “Have you ever listened to The Rolling Stones?”  
  
“Not really. Is that what you’re into?”  
  
“Yeah,” she lies. “I love classics. Musicals, too.”  
  
That part’s half true. Amy’s seen her fair share of Broadway, but only when her family comes to New York—it’s the only tourist fad she’ll agree to. It’ll spark enough of a common interest, at least, if she ever has to leave Jake unattended with her family.  
  
For the following two hours they rotate through mediocre Chinese food, Amy forgets her mission and allows Jake to charm her with bad puns and worse pickup lines. Instead of asking him about his plans for the future, she asks for more details about something he calls The Jimmy Jabs and regales him with the strategies she would use to utterly destroy him. She stuffs herself on spring rolls until she can’t move, and lets him take the excuse to pull her up when they leave, his hand staying in hers long after she’s left her booth.  
  
There’s a slight fuzziness in her head as they leave. She trips on the curb, distracted by something he’s said, and lets her hands linger on his chest once she’s steady. Instead of meeting his eyes, she finds his attention fixed on her lips. Something deep inside her akin to common sense tells her to step back, but she ignores it.  
  
He’s smiling softly as he kisses her, light as a feather. Her stomach drops, and then she’s pulling closer to him, pressing her lips more firmly against his. It’s a quick kiss—they’re still standing on the sidewalk, after all—and she’s stepping away from him again all too soon.  
  
“I’ll, uh,” Amy stutters, caught off guard by the pounding in her chest, “see you next time.”  
  
Jake grins. “Yeah. Goodnight, Amy.”  
  
She feels like a terrible person an hour later, her fingers ghosting over her lips where he kissed her. As she stares at her ceiling, too uneasy to pretend that she’s sleeping, she comes to a decision. There’s no harm in dating him and reaping a few benefits. He’s cute and makes her smile, and she can’t deny the urge to kiss him again.  
  
After all, every relationship has an expiration date. He doesn’t need to know that she knows theirs in advance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did i seriously google an unused phone number from brooklyn? yes, yes i did.


	3. # DAY 3 - SATURDAY #

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this ones for all u hoes

By noon, she’s worried that Jake’s decided not to contact her again. She knows he has the day off, just as she does, and she was careful to drop several hints that she had a lack of plans. Did she misinterpret his intentions? The irony doesn’t escape her, but she doesn’t want to face the possibility that she now has only one week to secure another date.  
  
Having already distracted herself with basic chores around the house, Amy’s debating between dusting her apartment or finally trying to resew the tear in her purple blouse when her phone chimes.  
  
**Jake @ 12:42 pm**  
> gooooood mrning!  
  
Idiot, she thinks, not sure if she’s referring to him or herself. Trying not to portray her rollercoaster of emotions, Amy folds herself into her couch and relaxes back with her phone.  
  
**Amy @ 12:45 pm**  
> It’s afternoon, Jake.  
  
**Jake @ 12:46 pm**  
> is it? i jst woke up  
  
**Amy @ 12:46 pm**  
> Of course you did.  
  
**Jake @ 12:47 pm**  
> figur that out with ur amazing detetive skillz?  
  
**Jake @ 12:47 pm**  
> i can do it 2  
  
**Jake @ 12:48 pm**  
> my spidey senses say u’ve had no fun withuot me  
  
**Amy @ 12:49 am**  
> I did my laundry, thank you very much.  
  
**Jake @ 12:49 pm**  
> for FUN?!  
  
**Jake @ 12:49 pm**  
> u need my help mor then i thought  
  
She’s outside his door four hours later. Truthfully, she doesn’t know what to expect from this date night. Jake mentioned something about renting a few movies, but he was strangely secretive about his plans. It’s not that she suspects he’s a creep—she likes to think her time as a cop has made her a pro at reading people—but she can’t stand the element of surprise.  
  
Amy takes a moment to compare the apartment number with the address he texted her earlier, then knocks soundly on the door.  
  
He smiles when he sees her standing there, quickly stepping aside to beckon her in. As she takes in his apartment, Amy’s glad, and not for the first time, that they aren’t actually in a relationship. It’s a studio, which isn’t too off putting in New York, but every inch seems to be covered in some type of filth. Clothes strewn by the bed, as if they’d been hastily shoved underneath it; several empty packets of instant ramen on the kitchen counter; the literal dirt and smudges on the walls.  
  
“Sorry it’s a little messy.” Jake kicks a pair of sneakers out of her way as she sits on the most unassuming part of the small couch.  
  
“It’s fine,” she lies.  
  
She watches as he fumbles around his nightstand, eventually wandering over to her with his hands behind his back. He looks almost sheepish as he stops in front of her and brings his arms around, a haphazard stack of DVDs in his arms.   
  
“I, uh, wasn’t really sure which ones you liked so I got as many as I could.”  
  
When Amy doesn’t immediately respond, he lurches forward, spilling the DVDs onto the couch next to her and perching on the other end. He starts talking faster, running a nervous hand through his hair, as she inspects the DVDs closer.  
  
They’re all musicals, she realises with surprise. Just like she told him she liked.  
  
“There were so many there, like, way more than I even knew existed. I’ve really only heard of a few, but I figured, you’re so—you probably like the, like, really weird ones, so I had to get some guy to help me—”  
  
She reaches forward, grabbing his hands with her own and forcing him to meet her eyes.  
  
“Jake, stop. You did this for me?”  
  
“Well, yeah. I thought you could show me them.”  
  
Her smile is genuine, and her stomach lurches in a way that has her leaning across the couch to kiss him without thinking. Embarrassed, she starts to move back, but Jake follows her. His lips nearly touching hers, he jolts back.  
  
“Oh! I also have my favourite movies.”  
  
“I’m scared to ask.”  
  
He grins, listing on his fingers as he speaks. _“Die Hard,_ _Die Hard 2_, _Die Hard with a Vengeance_, _Live Free or Die Hard_, and _A Good Day to Die Hard_, of course.”  
  
“Of course. Can we start with the musicals?”  
  
They watch _Annie_ first because it was one of Amy’s favourite movies as a kid, and she hasn’t seen it in years. She still knows all of the songs, though, much to Jake’s delight.  
  
He orders pizza as they start _Mamma Mia!_—he got to choose this time. For most of the evening they’ve been sitting apart, or at least as far apart as they can considering the size of the couch. After competing over who could eat more pizza slices, which results in a disappointing tie, Amy takes the first move and scoots until her side is next to his.  
  
It feels like a game. She knows, in theory, that she should be relying on her emotions, but this isn’t a typical date, and everything she feels is in conflict with each other. There’s a tightness in her chest from anxiety, a warmth in her back where his arms rests around her. The problem, she thinks, is that they could’ve actually been friends. But there’s too much to lose now, and she can’t allow herself to get too close.  
  
He convinces her to watch _Die Hard_ in the end, especially once she admits she’s never seen the whole movie. She’s entirely wrapped in his arms now and can feel the first dredges of sleep playing at the edge of her mind.  
  
When he kisses her, she doesn’t think twice.   
  
In spite of the gentle kisses they’ve shared so far, this one leaves her breathless. With his fingers threaded in her hair, holding her as close as he dares, Amy takes the opportunity to slide her hands under his shirt. She can feel when he sighs, the air skating over her lips. He eases her back into the couch while she pulls him along with her, not wanting to part with him for too long. Instead, he nestles by her collarbone, sucking softly on her skin.  
  
She let’s him pull off her shirt, but distracts him every time he reaches for her bra. Although she hasn’t quite defined the rules for whatever kind of relationship this is, she’s sure sex would be crossing some kind of line. And if he keeps going at this pace, that’s exactly where they’re going to end up.  
  
Eventually Jake lets up, most likely sensing her hesitancy, pressing the final kisses between her eyes. They stare at each other for a moment while catching their breath, the movie having ended long ago.  
  
“I should go,” she whispers. Inexplicably, she doesn’t want to ruin the moment.  
  
He seems unhappy at that, but smiles at her nonetheless. “Okay.”


	4. # DAY 4 - SUNDAY #

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS ONE'S SHORT BUT OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO DOES IT HURT

She spends her day trying not to think about him. It’s harder than it should be, but she settles down with a book she’s been meaning to read, and loses herself in the pages.  
  
A few times, her phones chimes and something within her sinks when it isn’t him. Amy tries not to read into that too much. Nor does she pay it much attention when he finally does text her after his shift and seeing his name lighting up her phone brings an immediate smile to her face.  
  
**Jake @ 5:02 pm**  
> uuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh  
  
**Amy @ 5:02 pm**  
> Bad day at work?  
  
**Jake @ 5:03 pm**  
> i dnt wanna think bout it  
  
**Amy @ 5:03 pm**  
> Maybe another movie night would help?  
  
She’s not too bad at this fake dating thing, she thinks. It’s coming almost effortlessly to her now—the flirting and dates. The bubble of anxiety in her stomach hasn’t come out all day, replaced by an ease that she normally only feels while colour-coding her work files or drinking her first coffee of the day. It’s nearly second nature talking to Jake now.  
  
**Jake @ 5:04 pm**  
> rly?  
  
**Amy @ 5:05 pm**  
> Yeah. Unless you don’t want to.  
  
**Jake @ 5:05 pm**  
> no no no no thatd be gr8  
  
**Jake @ 5:05 pm**  
> rly gr8 actualy  
  
**Amy @ 5:06 pm**  
> I can be over in an hour?  
  
**Jake @ 5:07 pm**  
> cool cool no doubt  
  
An hour later, tucked into his side on his couch while they debate over which movie to watch next, it takes her a moment too long to realise that he’s acting strangely. He’s avoiding her eye contact, and more concernedly, not cracking enough jokes at her expense. She even mentioned the autobiography she hadn’t been able to put down specifically for him to mock.  
  
“Are you alright?” She leans away from him, so he has no choice but to look up at her.  
  
“What, me? Totally, of course.”  
  
They both know she doesn’t believe him, but Amy can’t let it go. Not when there’s so much at stake. And _please_, God, don’t let him break up with her _now_.  
  
“Ah, well,” he continues after a pause, “I guess I didn’t think you wanted to see me again?”  
  
Amy stays silent again, only this time from shock. Of all the scenarios she’d been preparing for in her head, this wasn’t a perceivable outcome. She purses her lips, trying hard to think of something to say. Jake’s averted his eyes again, talking to the ceiling instead of her.  
  
“You left so quickly I thought… I don’t know.” He looks back at her, voice soft. “I really, really like you, Amy. I know it’s only been a few days but I… don’t want to lose you.”  
  
Her words get caught in her throat as she tries to smother her lie. “Oh, Jake. I really like you, too.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
He laughs a little, shakes his head as if shaking off the heavy air that Amy can feel settling on her shoulders. She offers him a smile and a hand squeeze, and he leans in to kiss her, slow and soft and warm. His hands frame her face gently as he moves his lips from hers to her cheeks to her forehead and back again until she’s sure he’ll never let her go.  
  
As they settle back in to watch _Die Hard 2_, his arm snug around her waist, Amy tries not to feel like the worst person in the whole world.


	5. # DAY 5 - MONDAY #

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uploading this chapter and the next one together because they're so short. just all set up for the wedding at this point!

She texts him after only a few hours of desperation and anxiety. The whole day at work she was restless, practically scarring Charles when he came up to her desk and she jumped up so fast her chair fell over. She can’t stop thinking about last night, and the way he kept looking at her as if she held the stars in the sky.  
  
**Amy @ 6:12 pm**  
> Hey, Jake. I know this is super last minute, but my brother’s wedding is this weekend and I won’t be able to survive without some emotional support.  
  
**Jake @ 6:13 pm**  
> askin me out santiago?  
  
**Jake @ 6:13 pm**  
> id love 2  
  
It’s as simple as that, really, but she can’t stop the feeling of overwhelming guilt from consuming her until she falls restlessly asleep.


	6. # DAY 6 - TUESDAY #

Growing up in a house with seven brothers, it’s truly a miracle she survived as well as she did. As much as she loathes most of her childhood memories involving the never ending sibling torment, she did manage to escape adolescence with a few allies.   
  
Ryan, her youngest brother at six years her junior, has stayed by her side since birth, and he’s the only one in her family she can trust with her life.  
  
**Ryan @ 4:53 pm**  
> so let me get this straight  
  
**Ryan @ 4:55 pm**  
> you’re dating someone for the sole purpose of showing up David at Miguel’s wedding who you might have tricked into falling in love with you?  
  
**Ryan @ 4:56 pm**  
> mad props sis  
  
**Amy @ 4:57 pm**  
> So you’ll help me?  
  
**Ryan @ 4:58 pm**  
> I wouldn’t miss this for the world  
  
Somehow, his nonchalance quells the turmoil that stayed with her all morning. He still thinks she’s a good person, perhaps a bit crazier than usual, but not the monster she’d otherwise leave herself to believe.   
  
It’s not as if she wants to be cruel to Jake. He’s a good man, and she truly hopes he doesn’t hate her by Sunday when she inevitably has to break his heart. Maybe she can explain it to him, hope he sees the humour in it and agrees to stay friends.   
  
But it’s too late to back out now with her and Ryan’s vision clouding her mind. If it all goes well, David will regret all of his pointless bragging, and Amy’s parents will realise that he isn’t any better than she is.


	7. # DAY 7 - WEDNESDAY #

Amy pauses outside the 99th Precinct, her hand on the handle for a second before she takes it back. It feels too much like a date, which is ridiculous, because that’s exactly what it is. But somehow meeting his coworkers, seeing where he spends most of his time, seems like crossing a boundary that she can’t take back.  
  
He invited her to come see him at lunch only a few hours earlier, proclaiming ridiculous things about how much he missed her until she agreed.  
  
This precinct’s busier than hers, and she almost runs into an officer stepping out of the elevator onto the fourth floor as she’d been directed by the front desk. She realises she’s way in over her head as she scours for Jake in the chaos. In her effort to seem cool and flirty, or at least more than usual, she’d forgone her usual interrogation for information. Should she have brought her own lunch? Will Jake be sitting at his desk? Was she supposed to wait downstairs?  
  
As she’s debating leaving immediately, someone approaches her. She notes the sergeant badge on his waist, the brightly coloured shirt and suspenders. “Can I help you?”  
  
“Um, yeah, I was looking for Jake?”  
  
“You’re the girl from the bar, aren’t you?” He seems genuinely pleased to see her, and Amy wonders if he was there that night as well. Putting a friendly hand on her shoulder, he shouts back into the precinct. “Peralta! Someone’s here for you!”  
  
Amy follows his eyes to the back of the room, where Jake’s waving frantically at her, a grin plastered on his face. She smiles back, and starts making her way over, thanking the sergeant for his help.  
  
“Hey!” Jake gestures to the chair next to his desk for her to sit, shoving important-looking papers out of the way. “Wow, you look amazing.”  
  
He’s rushing through his words so quickly, Amy barely has time to react to his compliment, a blush striking her cheeks as she glances down at her outfit. It’s the navy pantsuit, which is arguably her favourite, and she took her hair out on the drive over, so she’s not sure who he’s trying to fool.  
  
“And I have a surprise for you! Guess what it is.” He glances at his phone and holds up his hand, silently counting down the seconds and not waiting for her response. When he hits zero, he points toward a door behind him. “Boom.”  
  
The door opens exactly as Jake predicted, and Amy glances from it to him in confusion until she watches Captain Raymond Holt step out the door.  
  
Jake laughs, but the sound is somewhere in the back of her head as she frantically smooths out her jacket and brushes back her hair. She’s floundering as she turns back to Jake.  
  
“Should I talk to him? What do I do?”  
  
“Yes, yes!” he shoos her up. “Holt!”  
  
As Raymond Holt turns back around, Amy nervously glances to Jake, who throws her a thumbs up. She shoves out her hand, acting on autopilot. “Captain Holt! It’s an honour to meet you. You’ve done such great work for this city, especially with all you’ve been through. I’ve admired you for years.”  
  
“Ah, thank you…”  
  
“Amy,” she answers his silent question as he shakes her hand with the perfect amount of firmness. “Amy Santiago. I’m a detective at the 82nd Precinct, but I’m here as Jake’s—”  
  
“Girlfriend!” he interjects. “She’s my girlfriend.”  
  
She thinks Holt might disapprove of that, and she doesn’t dare consider the implications of the word herself, but his face remains impassive. “Well, it was a pleasure meeting you, Detective Santiago. If you’ll please excuse me, I have plans to meet with my husband Kevin.”  
  
“Oh, yes, of course! The pleasure was all mine!”  
  
She watches until he leaves, then collapses back into the chair next to Jake. There’s a smile on her face that she’s not sure will ever leave. Jake’s smiling too, though she can’t fathom why.  
  
“Should I be jealous?” he asks. Then he gasps, leaning towards her conspiratorially. “Are you just using me to get close to my boss?”  
  
Amy laughs, turning away slightly from his accusatory gaze. No, she thinks, I’m using you to get back at my brother. “Obviously,” she says instead. “Now what’s for lunch?”  
  
“Street hot dogs!” He looks a bit sheepish. “That sounds lame. They’re delicious, I swear.”  
  
“Alright then, lead the way.”  
  
She’d be lying if she said her stomach didn’t drop at the prospect of a food cart, but she tries to talk herself out of her worries. Next time, she can pick lunch. Something more proper like her mother’s stock of tamales and a fresh salad.  
  
As she gets up to follow Jake out of the precinct, he grabs her hand and swings it along between them, humming an upbeat tune that she recognises as being from The Rolling Stones. She tries to fight the smile that appears in response, imagining Rosa telling her to stop being such a wimp.  
  
Jake stops them at the hot dog vendor, starting up a conversation as they stand in line. It always surprises her how easily he can carry a conversation, easily picking up where she fumbles and genuinely stringing laughter from her. He’s spent the past ten minutes derailing a story that began with his childhood pet turtle when Amy realises her break has nearly ended.  
  
“Shit!” She jumps up, crumpling her trash into a ball and frantically getting her bearings to where she parked her car.  
  
“Was I that bad?”  
  
“Oh, no, I—the time—it’s…”  
  
“Relax, Ames.” He puts a hand on her lower back, trying to calm her down while holding back laughter. “I’ll walk you back.”  
  
She’s pulling away to get in her car when he grabs her hand. “See you this weekend?”  
  
“Yup.”  
  
Then he waves her off with a quick kiss and a promise to talk to her later, but Amy’s heart is stuck in her throat. Anxiety, she assumes, from having two minutes to navigate New York traffic to get back to work in time. The flush in her cheeks couldn’t have been caused by Jake, after all.


	8. # DAY 8 - THURSDAY #

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not gonna lie the next chapter will probably take a while but trust me

In the end, it’s Rosa who pours the proverbial bucket of ice water over Amy’s head.   
  
They’re in the break room, making good use of the burritos that their captain ordered for the squad’s morale. As Rosa tears her aluminium foil into smaller and smaller pieces, Amy spills her worries into her lunch.  
  
“—he’s kind of a decent person? Not that I really like him, but I mean, I could see how I, or one, _could_. Like him, that is. But I guess I’ve been feeling so awful lately because I really, really don’t want to hurt him.”  
  
She’s fairly sure Rosa isn’t paying her any attention, and she frankly didn’t mind the dynamic, so it comes to a surprise when Rosa speaks up.  
  
“You know you don’t _have_ to break up with him, right?”  
  
“What? No, Rosa, that’s the whole point. He’s just—”  
  
“A fake boyfriend,” she interrupts, “yeah, I get it. But if you want him then make it real.”   
  
Stunned, Amy stares down at her burrito and the stray cheese that’s fallen in her lap. She hates how Rosa always takes her problems, riddled with and built up by anxiety, and assigns them nonchalant, simple solutions.  
  
“I don’t need a relationship right now,” she argues. “And besides, it’s not like—I haven’t even been completely honest with him. That’s not a good relationship.”  
  
“Sure. Break up with him then.”  
  
Amy stutters. “But… you just said…”  
  
“Who cares what I say?” She gestures to Amy’s burrito, now resting forgotten on the table. “Are you going to finish that?”  
  
Leaving with Amy’s burrito stuffed in her mouth, Rosa gives Amy one last stare down that she feels deep in her bones. Left only with the fallen remains of her lunch and a jumble of thoughts, she’s left with only one option.  
  
Or two, really, because instead of assigning her thoughts into logical categories and organising her options with multicoloured pens, Amy decides to push it all to the back of her mind. She has a wedding to prepare for, after all.


End file.
